Yearning and Finding
by thesadchicken
Summary: This story was inspired by handprintonmyheartx's post on tumblr: Just imagine the sex that was had the night the curse broke.


Night tiptoed around the castle, reluctant to fall over it, unwilling to send its happy residents to sleep just yet. They had danced all day, villagers, servants and royalty alike; one ecstatic mass of flesh and blood and _oh_ , yes, they were finally human again.

This thought had prevailed over all others, except, perhaps, the other heart-lifting notion that they were all together, safe and alive and – yes, there it was again – _human_.

But as the sun waned under the horizon and the sky burst with color, another thought sprouted in the crowd's minds. As if struck by a divine, invisible finger, the collective consciousness of the once-cursed people was ignited with fiery imaginings. And the darker it got, the more pressing the thoughts became. In the ballroom, couples danced a little closer; in the hallways, giggling and giddy gasps could be heard.

Soon candles had to be lit, food had to be put away, and the younger guests had to be put to bed.

Chip was one of the first to leave the ballroom – to his dismay – and this time, he wasn't going to sleep in the cupboard. The little boy walked into his room, his _real_ room, holding onto his parents' hands. Mr. and Mrs. Potts kissed him goodnight and promised they'd watch over him during the night. Chip assured them he wasn't afraid, although he was, a tiny bit at least, if he were to be honest. He did not want to wake up and find that he had been turned back into a teacup. And yet he very quickly fell asleep, exhausted by the excitement of the day.

That was when Mrs. Potts, struck by that same fiery idea mentioned earlier, turned to her husband with the strangest look on her kind face.

"I don't suppose you would –" she whispered, but then she stopped, because she knew Jean had understood.

And of course he had. He gently slipped an arm around his wife's waist and pulled her close enough to whisper in her ear. "Oh yes I would."

"But Chip?" she gave him a guilty look.

"We'll be back in no time," he reassured her, and he was already pulling her out of the room, into a darker corner of the castle.

In a dark corner of that same castle, two men were desperately holding onto each other, their mouths brushing in a shy kiss. Lefou and Stanley searched for each other's eyes in the dimness, surprised by their own boldness. Something stirred within them and they found themselves locked in a tender embrace.

The fight was over. The war was won. _Be free_ , Stanley thought, and he reached out to hold Lefou's hand.

His hands were so warm on her skin. It was the first thing Garderobe noticed when Cadenza held her face between his palms and pulled her in for a kiss. She sat beside him at the piano and looked into his eyes.

Frou-Frou barked at their feet, but they ignored him. The dog whimpered, earning an absent-minded pat on the head, but he quickly gave up and scurried out of the almost-empty ballroom. His owners were busy; they smelled of _gratitude_ and _affection_ and _hunger_ , and Frou-Frou knew better then to interrupt them at such moments.

"Your hands are so warm," Garderobe breathed, her eyes never leaving her husband's.

"Mi amore," Cadenza said, drawing small invisible circles on her cheeks with his thumbs. "I have missed you."

She felt a shiver run down her spine. His skin against her skin, her eyes staring into his eyes; they were real, they were here. Their bodies trembled once again, their hearts thumped in their chests and their blood pumped through their veins. Suddenly it was all too much to bear; they had to touch and to be touched.

And so they did. Onto the piano they went, crushing its keys and making them sing chaotic tunes. The fabric of their expensive clothes rustled as they pushed it away. Skin against skin, they wanted to be skin against skin; they wanted to feel each other, rub their bodies against each other.

"Madonna santa," Cadenza panted as he watched his wife undrape in front of him. Her beautiful body was so open and lean and close and he reached out to touch her…

"Maestro," she mouthed, "I have never loved you more than in this moment. And yet I know I will love you even more tomorrow."

"You are as perfect as the day I met you," he answered, burying his face in her hair and covering her bare neck with heated kisses.

The sounds of their lovemaking were only thinly veiled by the crashing and smashing of the piano keys – but on that particular night, no one cared nor dared to interrupt them.

She interrupted him. He was singing and she suddenly covered his lips with her own. Lumiere had lost count of how many times they had kissed since the breaking of the curse a few hours ago, but he knew he could never get enough of Plumette's tenderness.

The kiss lingered this time. When she pulled away, Plumette was flushed and breathless and beautiful. _Bonté divine_ , so beautiful. Lumiere ran his open palm over her dark cheek and stared at her in awe.

"You are so beautiful, _mon amour_ , you break my heart," he said, his eyes glided over her delicate features, drinking them in.

She stared back, and her lips parted, and her tiny pink tongue peaked out. She slowly pushed herself onto the tips of her toes and nibbled gently at his ear. Her fingers clutched his arm. She steadied herself with one hand on his shoulder and whispered, ever so softly, "You are even more beautiful, Lumiere, and _I want you_."

The last words rang in his head and in the air around them and he felt drunk on her. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could smell her on his skin, so close, and she was pushing him into a room, and he wasn't even sure it was his room or even hers, but he didn't care, couldn't care, as long as her body was touching his. He was already aching for her, and she had barely brushed his ear with her pretty little mouth.

"Undress me, _mon coeur_ , and then let me undress you," she said, she _commanded_ , and he was hers, heart and body and soul.

He reached a trembling hand forward and placed it on her neck. He slid it towards her chest, reached her breasts, started to pull at the fragile ribbons there – but he never got the chance to finish undressing her.

Mad with desire, they both threw themselves forward and kissed passionately, wildly, with a hunger and lust they'd thought was forgotten. She grabbed his wig and tossed it aside, running her hands through his tousled short hair. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close, but his hands quickly wandered downward. He gripped her dress and rumpled it in his fist, sliding his free hand beneath it to cup her soft, round derriere. She gasped into the kiss and pressed her body against his. He knew she could now feel his lust through the too-many layers of clothing separating them.

She pushed him onto the bed he hadn't even realized was behind him. Then she threw her head back and off came her wig, revealing her wonderful black curls. They bounced on her shoulders and cascaded down her back. Lumiere tore his jacket off, flaming at the sight of her. She bit her lower lip as she expertly undressed herself, although her fingers were shaking and her movements were prompted by desire.

Lumiere all but ripped his own clothes off, intoxicated by Plumette and the thought of Plumette and the smell of Plumette and the sight of her and the sounds she was making…

They fell into each other's arms, naked and burning with passion. She climbed on top of him and parted her legs and took him in, all in one motion. He felt himself melt, and for a moment he thought it was too much, too soon, he was too close, too early…

She pulled away just as he thought he was about to come undone. Her eyes gleamed in the darkness and sweat beaded on her forehead and she was _perfect_.

"You are perfect. I love you," he sighed, body trembling against hers, begging for her to touch him, to take him back, oh how he had missed her.

"So are you. I love you too," she whispered, and suddenly her hand was around him, holding him upright as she raised her hips and sank onto him.

They both moaned in pleasure. There was a slight moment of stillness before they started moving again. He dug his fingers into her thighs; the inner corners of his eyebrows were arched upwards, his mouth open in a long, lustful groan. She bounced up and down and moaned in utter abandon, her eyes closed, her tiny breasts quivering above him.

They did not last long, but this came as no surprise. The moment they looked into each other's eyes they were lost, and Plumette shuddered into her climax, quickly joined by Lumiere.

They made love two more times that night, before collapsing onto the bed, tired and satiated. They slept until noon, limbs tangled, breaths mingling, and they smiled in their sleep.

Belle smiled and blinked in the morning sunlight. Her body was warm and her mind was at peace, and she could feel Adam's arm tenderly draped over her naked shoulders. She let the moment last a little longer, because it was flawless. The sun on her skin, the sheets crumpled at her feet, Adam's hair tickling her cheek…

"Bonjour," his voice snatched her out of her musings.

She opened her eyes and looked into his. They were impossibly blue, impossible gentle. She grinned at him. "I'm so happy," she said, then added after a moment, "I love you."

He smiled back. "Never as much as I love you."


End file.
